The Gotham Giggles
by Martin Grazier
Summary: A mix of the Dark Knight and the old Animated series... Written between myself and my friend. Harley and her puddin'.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One.

"... See, the city's always been like that... Those, uh, things? People? Yeah, they've always been like that. Fuck your innocence, these people are rotten... All of them..." His eyes were fixed, on her. His hands would constantly gesture, almost...nervously, to enhance his body language....

"...See, these... believers in the human spirit... These... Humanists, these...." He spoke with venom, his voice going much lower than it did by usual means...

"...They believe evildoers are the ones who steal, who, uh... Sell drugs--all that... They think it's their fault.... What they don't recognize, is...well, those people.... Uh, they are just like them. In every way. Different circumstances. But, they-oh, they love to judge. And say that the others should die. That they should, uh, go to prison. Funny, hm? They're, uh... Blind." The Joker stood, walking over to the window, and sighing....

"...And I....want to do something about that...."

Blue eyes peered across the room, observing him... She held a different gaze than the rest who had either sought him, or even followed him... They had all had crazes upon their faces- all had lost their minds, slowly, or drugged themselves to a loss... But this woman's expression was different. It was respectful. There was a twinge of madness hidden behind her eyes; but the prevailing factor was that of respect, and interest. An interest more than in just the killings, but an interest in what he was saying... And interest and respect for the ideas which he had proposed. Her mouth twitched, as she planned the words she wished to say, carefully- as the gag she had been subjected to earlier in the evening had finally been removed.

"Rotten, you call them..." She paused upon the word. "... To rot though, one would have to assume that at one point it would have been good... That the thoughts they had originally, sir, were actually pure... If I have noticed anything of Gotham, sir, anything at all, I have noticed that not even the children are good enough to turn into something rotten." She closed her eyes for a moment, before gazing back at him in an utter coolness... A feeling of relaxation in his presence.

"Though sir, I will agree with you... Their treating the ones of lower birth as terribly as they do, as much as their brains read the same; that so much should be stopped." She fell silent... Most of the others, who had ever looked for him, would just nod, and agree instantly... None would ever actually comment- even partially disagree, on his speech....

He did a sharp turn, and he walked over to her, leaning his face in close--precariously close-- to her face.... She could see, even under the war facepaint, she could see his scars. They were grotesque, yet somehow entrancing... A clue, as to what he was, his past... And, she, right now, was the person who'd gotten closest to knowing what it was. He breathed, deeply, and patted her head with a hand, like she were a pup--yet, the smile he gave her--to some might have been terrifying--but, in this instance, it was almost affectionate.

"...See, now that's what I like to hear. You, uh, raise a point, you know. But, what better word than rotten, hm? Answer me that... " he gestured towards the window, where a pale, reddish hue tinted the sky eternally... "...What can we call the remaining swill of, uh, human...civilization. Hm?"

Her lips turned up into a thin smirk. "... Really..." She paused, and gazed out the window...

"... Really, I would just call them human..." She fell silent, before continuing. "But a word of description for them would be... Inutile.." She leaned back against the wall, though still letting her gaze drift back to him. The scars- she had heard rumors they were just added in to the paint- latex, with a bit of powder thrown on... But she had seen them for herself... And she thought them, in a strange way, beautiful... Of course, she would speak none of that unless directly asked. She ignored being bound, though... She had quite expected this precaution from one such as him- a man with such enemies, would of course have to prune his candidates.

"This world in which we choose- yes, sir, I say we /choose/, for if we so desired we could leave it quite quickly, is the worse for wear... It is my belief; as to whether it is yours, or not as well, i am not sure, but it is mine, that this world needs to be... Edited. Edited and picked and prodded... For some people can be rewritten, if you do it right... It takes a bit of effort, yes... But you could make a world quite a bit more interesting, and fitting, if the mood served just the right person at the right time."

"Now, what you're hoping for is a sudden shift in the mechanics of the human spirit. We can't do that. I can't do that." He laughed, and walked around her.

"...The only thing that can make a person change--and I mean.../really/....change.." He licked the corder of his mouth, and breathed out, rather noisily, before continuing...

"...Is through fear. You, uh, grab 'em, and you shake 'em..." He moved his hands in the air as if he were gripping someone before him, and shaking them violently....

"...Until they realize.... They're falling in shit, and slipping on it again when they, uh, get back up." He gave a cackle, at this, a most bone chilling one....

"...And I can get them fear. I can, uh.... Shake their buildings. Their little glass houses....And, when they're desperate, they'll uh...see. Themselves. For what they are."

She smiled softly. "... Fear, though, has its way of worming its way out just as quickly as it wormed in... Fear truly works for only a short time on one person... They begin to expect it, and it loses its vigor... Slowly, over time, they wean from their terror and instead travel either into the skulls and darken their emotions to the outside or..." She paused.

"... They effectively lost 'it' as the saying goes... As much as this might catch your fancy, I'd rather like to have three, or four people, what still have their mind... There are quite a few things I doubt that no amount of henchmen would ever be able to do- as much as I appreciate these brawny boys of yours, I doubt many of them would have the ability to install a toilet main... and that, sir, is a comfort I'd quite com like to have a few normies left about for..." She shuddered.

"... Not everyone needs to change... Not everyone needs to be scared. A few need to be left unhindered- for their jobs make our lives easier... Because, I'm assuming, you quite like to use the toilet as well?..."

He cackled, again, and sat down on the floor before her, cross-legged. "...Yes, I do." He cackled, again, and held his chest.

"...My, my... You certainly do throw people for a loop. Specially me. See, what I like about you, uh...Miss... Quinzell--lovely name, by the way-- Is that you.... You're not like, uh... them." He pointed out the window, again.

"... No, no. You.... You're not afraid of death. You know that there are things that...Uh, are a /lot/ worse. Things that can walk in broad daylight... But me? No, you're not afraid of me. You're the only person who's not afraid. Of me." He got up, walked behind her, undid the bindings on her arms, and nodded out to a door in the far side of the room. "...flush it twice."

He cackled, again, and sat down on the floor before her, cross-legged. "...Yes, I do." He cackled, again, and held his chest. "...My, my... You certainly do throw people for a loop. Specially me. See, what I like about you, uh...Miss... Quinzell--lovely name, by the way-- Is that you.... You're not like, uh... them." He pointed out the window, again.

"... No, no. You.... You're not afraid of death. You know that there are things that...Uh, are a /lot/ worse. Things that can walk in broad daylight... But me? No, you're not afraid of me. You're the only person who's not afraid. Of me." He got up, walked behind her, undid the bindings on her arms, and nodded out to a door in the far side of the room. "...flush it twice."

Her lips turned into a small smile, and she giggled lightly- but stopped herself. She stretched her arms, and turned her lips into a light smirk. "I wouldn't say I'm the only one not afraid... I'm not that special..." She paused and her eyes drifted.

"I wouldn't say the batboy was terrified of you... If I though really, I'd say that the batboy was terrified of... Bats." She Thought for a moment, and swayed on the spot.

"... Of course, I've never had the ability to say yes, or no on the issue, as I've never gotten to meet him... But, I doubt I'd enjoy the thing, aas to me... Any man who runs around in an advanced spandex suit is a man I'd quite like to avoid, really... I mean, his manly parts look a might bit on the small side in those clothes. Perhaps he's just out to prove his part against the world to make due..."

The joker shrugged, as he walked to the window. "...I think he's a little bit fascinating. Annoying, yes. He's got this...code. And we all know that codes... Don't really hold when things get...Tight. He's going to have to kill, eventually. Someone. Someone who, uh... he doesn't wanna kill. And, If he doesn't do it soon, I'll make sure he does.' He licked his mouth.

"....See, there's a breaking point for anyone. And, the reason everyone looks up to, uh, flappy black wings, is because they think he's made of something more than the rest of us. Yeah. It's humorous. Something to laugh at. I mean, why, why is he, uh, better, than you or me? Hm? Because he can perform like a gymnast? Or, uh, because he hits those darn bad guys on the head? No, anyone else can do that... He just went through the extra trouble. And he'll say he does it because Gotham needs a hero. Right...Well, you know what /I/ say?" He walked to the window, and chuckled.

"...Gotham needs a villain. And, like, a /real/ one. One that can show how batboy has his limits..."

She stood next to him and stared out at Gotham... "I think it's actually a beautiful city... Not the people, but the city itself..." She pressed her fingers against the glass, and peered out...

"... Some of it is neat..." Her expression darkened, suddenly, and she sneered. "... The batboy runs around in a latex suit and expects us to take him seriously... He pretends to be a hardass, but..." She paused suddenly, and fell silent... She had seen him once, lamenting in a church yard... Crying over some tomb stone... But she doubted that the man to her right needed to know that...

"So, what do you want me to do?" She looked over at him... "... I need a job, don't I?..."

The joker raised an eyebrow. "...You, a perfectly trained Shrink, work for me? Oooh, hoho... See, I'm not one much for hire... You have, uh, all these /contracts/...And, money. Well, I guess money would not be of the issue..." he walked over to her, and leaned in to her shoulder, looking at her profile...

"...And besides...A bright young woman such as yourself should not be running around with a man of my... Situation." He chuckled.

"You'd get in /all/ sorts of trouble! And, uh, not just with the police, no.. no. You should, uh, forget about me, while you can." He tugged at his purple striped jacket, and ran a hand through his hair. He stared at her for a few seconds, and coughed.

"...Unless, of course.... You want to help me, uh, change Gotham. My way."

She wrapped her arms across her chest, and stared out... "... Sir, I doubt I would have spent the time to actually search out where you are, if it were to simply drop everything and turn around once I've actually found you... It's true, I could get into a tad bit of trouble- but what is the interest in a life without a little bit of... Fun...?" She giggled softly, and stared at the window...

"... I would never forgive myself for simply leaving- Unless of course, you truly have no use for me and wish me to." She glanced at the window, her eyes surveying the skyline...

"If that be the case, then I will leave... But your ideas interest me- hell, you do as well..."

The Joker stared at her for a second, and cackled, loudly. "...Dear, if you had, uh, no use to me, you wouldn't be alive right now. Yeah." He wasn't one much for women, those untrustable seas of Estrogen that fucked up so many things.... Well, it's not like men are to be trusted, either... But, if he got too close to her, it would be a train wreck, he knew it, he knew it... He held out a hand, and his smile widened--the scars on his cheeks contorted even more powerfully, now....

"...So, given the fact you're, uh, alive, I should say.... Let's get in trouble...." A cackle resounded through the room, awaiting her handshake.

She smiled, and gingerly placed her hand in his, and shook. "... I agree- being alive and all.. It actually does have it's perks." She smiled, and returned her gaze out of the window...

"... Gotham is finally going to get the wakeup call she needs..." She ran a finger down the window, staring out longingly...

"... Anyways." Harleen broke herself away, and turned to him.

"... As stated before, I'm a psychiatrist... I'm able to get into any asylums I need to, and pull out any subject I wish for study- no matter who it is; and take them where I wish. I have a home, of course... It's on the outskirts." She looked up at him calmly.

"So, uh, here's the deal, gorgeous.... We are going to have to come up with a way that we stay under the radar for as long as we can. I don't, uh, know if you've noticed, but The Batman..." He paused, straightening his tie before continuing...

"...He, uh Seems to be...Everywhere. even when he, uh, shouldn't be. Which means he's a man of good connections. I would kill him.... But, but no... It's not death what I want for him..." He said, lowly, licking his lower lip.... He didn't seem to have that much interest in Quinzell--he still felt alienated to her, she...she still was normal. Or, looked normal. Whenever he looked into her eyes, or she to his, he would not see...'it'. The same stare he saw whenever he looked in the mirror. Poor girl had no hate! No, all she had were twisted Ideas, a warped mind, and he knew she saw him as an instrument for her to achieve her ideas....'Change Gotham...' She said... Well, he didn't really like the idea of having someone to tag along as he did so.... But who knows?

"...And Iii...need...A plan...."

Harleen leaned her arms against the ledge of the window, and stared out. "... Have you ever considered that because of all of these gadgets, all of these things that the batman can get means that he most obviously has quiet a bit of money and influence?" She lazily rested her chin on her palm, and stared.

"... Did it never make you think that someone has to make these things for him?..." She stood up straight, and looked over her shoulder.

".. Why not go after the people that make the stuff?... Look through records. The gadgets he use are likely created by the same companies, or related ones at the very least..." Suddenly, she noticed she shouldn't have said this... Where would be the fun in taking the logical way out... A sigh escaped her lips, as she turned away. "Never mind..."

He looked at her, and he smirked, leaning back on his seat. The night, it was trademark Gotham. Dark, as per usual, but there was a bit of fog rolling in. The lights to where they were were off, but a reddish, sickly light rolled in from the multiple windows. His outline was visible, but his voice was the only thing clear in the room...

"...Yes, never mind. Even if I knew the companies, and shut them down, blew them up...What, uh, what use would it be? Hm?" He breathed, deeply, noisily....

"...Even...if..... We managed to cut him short of his gadget supply, it doesn't guarantee us success!" he cackled...

"...No! No, no, no no no...It wouldn't be fair game. No... I have my own little schemes, so, he should, as well.... We just need to study him...Sketch down...every...single..." He moved his hand across the table, as if he were holding a pencil, tracing something, the shadow of his hand mildly cast against the table...

"...Habit..."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Weeks went by and Harley wasn't able to catch sight of him once. The sliver of hope she had of seeing him again was starting to dwindle, until she heard a cackle down the hall... Her station was taken at Arkham. She was scribbling at a few papers, her lips turned in a frown...

"Displays hallucinogenic ideas.... Believes he saw myself with missing patient 221 three weeks ago in an abandoned factory on Scythe Street." She completed the formal analysis and put the papers away... Of course, she giggled to herself, she had been in the crumbling building.

Distantly she heard the cackling again, and recognized it. She pushed her chair back, and stood quickly. Rushing to the door, she pressed her ear against it before jumping back. Someone was knocking, and quiet loudly at that. She shakily opened the door, and saw him being dragged in.

"Where do you want him, Miss Quinn," asked two of the three workers keeping _him_.

"... Oh, I suppose move him down to the basement..." She avoided his gaze, and stared directly at the workers. She checked her list.

"B234. He hasn't been in that one yet..."

"Gah… HAH HAHAHAHHAHAHA! Well! Well.... Sure, go-go ahead, take me to my new room. I'll make sure to, uh, hire an interior designer..." He chuckled.... His eyes went to Quinzell, and he nodded at her.

"...Come on, Miss Shrink, have an assessment for me, hm? Interview me!" He ladled the wording with much meaning, but the guards took no notice as they dragged him.

"...I'll be waiting..." He whispered, the word drawn out. Soon, he was in his cell, chucked unceremoniously... He dusted himself off....

"...Ah....And now, to wait. Oh, boys, can you bring me some soda and some lunchables, or something? I, the crazy person, am hungry!"

Quinzell made her way to her desk, and cursed. It took her nearly no time at all to get down the stairs and to the cell she had sent him. She held a clip board in one hand, and beckoned at one of the workers with the other.

"... Get him. We need to speak. One of the unmonitored rooms, if you please." The man began to argue..

"But with him, all sessions are to be ta-" She cut him off mid sentence with a glare that would make a full grown man cry his eyes out.

"... Get him, and take us to an interrogation room, now." The man gave in, and called a few buddies over.

"... Miss Quin'd like a word with you... So face to the wall, we're coming in..."

"...And smear my face paint? You're delusional. Crazy. And where the hell are my lunchables?!" He asked. A cackle escaped him as the cell opened, and he offered his hands.

"...Well, take me to your...Quinzell. I do hope she has something interesting to say..." He chuckled... He was silent after that moment, as he was led out, but his eyes wandered all over the place. There he as, at Arkham, the loony bin prison...With all these...common idiots! No, no, this was unacceptable. But he had to get there... He needed Quinzell.... Once he was pushed into the room where Harley was in, he smirked. "...Why hello there, uh, Miss Quinzell...."

She sat across the glass from him; long since were the times when the criminals in Arkham were aloud to be in the same direct room with the others. She scanned him, quietly. She noted something, and sighed.

"Of all of the people I imagined I would get to interview, I did not think you would be one of them." She sat down in a chair, and looked at him.

"... Did the bat brat catch you?" She played a sarcastic tone in her voice, and looked at him in scrutiny...

"... I'm surprised..."

"No, no, see, that's where you're wrong to assume, dear. The batman can't catch me, you must know that, specially given the fact Gotham city isn't blowing up!" He sat down on the chair, and leaned down...

"...It makes me sooo....hnnn...sad. You underestimate me. And, what's more, you underestimate yourself. That...is....disappointing. Haven't you ever thought.... That I wanted to talk to you, again? Of course, it's not like I was looking for you desperately...Or that I allowed you to find me... I'm strange, like that. And, what's worse, I couldn't contact you by normal means! You're bugged, in every way...The safest way to contact you without...."....He pointed at the walls, and at the door...

"...Watching.... It's here."

Her lips turned into a sarcastic smile, and she stood up again. She quietly made her way to the glass, and pressed her hand against it.

"... I'm not stupid. I can tell by the look in your eyes that you want to get out of here, or you would have fought more with the guards- you didn't want to ruin your chances. Also, your hands aren't twitching, that's when you can tell that you are lying; you do everything possible to cover it up." She smiled, and stepped back.

"I have studied everything they know about you, Joker..." She indicated around the room...

"Everything others know of you, interviewed your workers..." She stopped, and looked around.

"And then more information originated from the Batman himself... He definitely doesn't fancy you, dear, that's for sure... Especially your last endeavor.... Trying to blow up a grave yard...?" She paused, and looked him right in the eye...

"... And my, have you been a bad, bad boy..."

And there it was. She verbally spanked him. It wasn't a flirt, but it had the same effect of turning the joker on. He slowly turned his face to her, his eyebrow rising, and a smirk playing across his lips, making his smiling face contort into a wicked grimace... His own gloved hand went up to press against the imprint of her hand on the glass...

"...well, then, if you know so much about me, then you'll know I didn't allow myself to get in here without being able to get out easily. And, that's where, uh.... you come in, Quinzell. The time...uh, the time has come...to change Gotham. I can't stand batboy's crusade anymore. Let's get this done."

She smirked, and looked at him. "... I'll see you in a moment. We're transferring you out of Arkham. This place isn't strong enough for you anymore." She took a step back from the glass, and stepped out.

"Boys, take him back to his cell, for the moment. This place isn't big enough for him. I'm having him transferred to Zertki." The guys nodded, as she made her way upstairs to make the arrangements; both with the asylum people, and _his_ people...

The Joker, for the first time, kept quiet. However, his stare, it never tore away from Quinzell as he left the room. It was, well, a knowing stare, disturbing in many senses--but from the Joker, that could pass... as affection. He had seen it- the 'it' he was looking for, the reassurance of the idea that she...she was the one.

Once the guards had dragged him out of the room, and into his cell, he smirked. The guards slowly slid the cell door shut, and he turned around to look at them...

"...Well, boys... That was a sweet first date..a. But, please, I have, uh, morals, so, don't get handsy 'till after the third date..." He licked the corner of his mouth, and cackled, as he sat back down on the small bed of his temporary quarters....

Harleen whispered instructions to the boys on the outside, and explained the route they would take. She finished her instructions to them, and then called up the men at Zertki. She explained who it was that was being sent to them, and instantly they were excited; they had been asking for years to have a chance at holding him, simply to see if they could do a better job.

Her lips curled into a smile, and she promised that they would have him there within the next six hours.

"Boys." Her eyes drifted to the door as the nurses entered.

"Yes'm?" She looked to the largest one, and nodded.

"You and one you choose sit in the back with him and myself. Johnston;" She glanced to the smaller one.

"You're driving the car with him. We're going to be escorted of course- we can't take a chance at losing him. I'm going to put him in sedation, it will make him easier to cooperate with. Go get the cars prepared; it's a five hour drive from here to there." The men nodded obediently, and set to work. Quietly, she made her way back to B234, and knocked.

"... I'm coming in."

The Joker was fiddling with his suit as she came to his cell, and a smirk crawled on his face. He stood, graciously, and bowed at her when she opened the cell door...

His features were heavily marked by a harshly cast shadow from the lighting in the room, making each scar even more pronounced. However, there was this primal joy--the exhilaration of anticipation as what was to come, it was tremendous. For the first time, he was not calling the shots--and even if he wasn't exactly fond of that idea, he felt Harleen Quinzell was the woman for the job.

"...Well, glad you're back. I would make...a joke. But I don't have one. That's...what you call. uh...Irony. Now, what do you need?" He licked his lower lip, "...gorgeous?"

She leaned forward.

"... We're going to make you look like you're sleeping, Puddin'." Her smile turned into a smug smirk.

"... Make them think that you're out, so that when we get ready..." She poked him on the nose.

"... It's going to be a bit more surprising..." Her fingers dawdled over a syringe, and she smiled.

".. Simple H2O, that's all.. Not even going to inject you with it, either." Her eyes looked down at his arm.

"You willing to fake sleeping for about an hour?"

He cackled, and held out an arm, then shook his head, and gave her a shoulder...

"...Go on, Go on! Inject me, please. Nothing like, uh, a good sedative..." He was definitely excited. He'd broken out of Arkham a few times before, but, the facility always seemed to happy to welcome him back, by God! However, he stood still. Sure, the cell they were in had video camera monitoring, but they couldn't hear what they were saying, they were pretty much safe to speak.

"...Where should we, uh...You know, get going, hm? You'll need to alert me, otherwise I'll /really/ fall asleep in one of the guards' comfy shoulders..." He smirked at her.

"...Oh, Quinzell, what are /you/ so happy about, hm? Is it the control? Is it the power you have over these men? Oh, I must admit you look /stunning/ when you act like the boss... I just hope you're, uh... in your right mind to, uh, think that life, with me, will be... Harmless, to you." He chuckled... He took a deep breath, amid her silence, and continued....

"...Life.... life's more dangerous than you think, Harleen... Not, uh... Not forgiving on the body... D'you wanna know how I got these scars? Hm?" He licked the inner part of his cheek, making it bulge out, making those marks on them stand out much more…

Harleen smiled up at him, and took his arm.

"Nope." She then pressed the end of the syringe and put the 'sedative' into him.

"You're going to Zertki. It's a high security mental institution for incurable mental diseases and high class criminals. Their methods are questionable, and the only person that escaped was caught and put to death a week later." She shrugged lightly, and cleaned up the injection site and placed a bandage that looked like a smiley face on it.

"There is a tracker in that, by the way, so your boys can find us... They're not the most intelligent, so I made it easy enough for them to catch up to us." She leaned her neck and popped it.

".. You should be 'passing out' in about a minute or so." She turned to the door, but paused to glance over her shoulder to him.

"... I don't care about your scars 'till you're actually real about it." And with that, she slammed the door behind her; giggling a bit.

The Joker was a bit surprised when she stuck the syringe into him--not because it stung, which, honestly, it didn't. but because she cut him off in a trademark moment of his. As hs left, he heard her request, and he chuckled.

"...So be it." And then, the cackle. Loud, resounding in every prison cell, making the crazy ones go wild with raucous laughter, and the guilty, evil ones cower in their cell... His eyes went to the conveniently placed camera in the corner of his cell, and he looked at it. He smirked, standing up a bit straighter, and closing his eyes....

Slowly, his body swayed back and forth, before it fell, right on his back, convincingly, but with such perfect symmetry, it would look strange.... And, now, he figured, we wait.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The nurses went into the cell and pulled him to a stretcher and then a few moments later, to an armored car. They trusted her, and foolishly didn't even make sure he was truly asleep. Each went in to their assigned spots; she sitting next to him. She idly played with a clip board, and glanced around.

"I doubt they can keep 'im.." Commented Johnston, rolling his eyes.

"... Little freak.. I can't stand to be near him, after all the shit he's pulled..." The man looked down with disgust, his face contorted in a grimace.

"... He's crazy, man..." The other one nodded, and they both looked to her. She caught their eyes, and raised an eyebrow.

"... How do you honestly know he's crazy? For all you know, dear, he could be the epitome of sanity- and the rest of us have broken away from what was supposed to be 'normal' for our race. Look at all of the early humans; we were a murderous and partially psychotic people... Perhaps he is the true human, and the rest of us are simply imitations with faulty beliefs in what is right, or wrong. Perhaps what he does is the only true 'right', and what we do is wrong... It's all a point of perspective, boys." The men looked from one to the other, and they both shuddered at her.

"... He's still crazy," reasoned Johnston, but it was only murmured.

The two men continued in idle banter about what the Joker was, or was not, and the man himself was merely lolling around, head to the side against whatever object of support he had next to him. He was keeping the appearance of sleep. Though, Joker was waiting for the faintest sign, the cue, the right moment when his men would come to the rescue.

The two guards did not notice, then, that behind them was a tow truck, and it was gradually getting closer and closer. They also did not notice--what with Gotham's foggy nights and enveloping darkness, the sharp objects evidently placed to flat the tires.

First came the bump, and the unisonous hiss from all four tires, and the unexpected cries as the men lurched forward. At the same time, the van was hauled to a stop as the tow truck literally harpooned the back of the car, keeping them well in place. Joker took the sudden lurch, back and forth, to act, and within a second, he had a gun, pointed to each their heads...

"...See, gentlemen... I...am not...crazy. I'm...not. And I must tell you, lies..." he took a deep breath...

"...Lies should not be told in front of the man being, uh, slandered. "....P-please....Please, don't kill us..." Johnston said. The Joker cackled.

"...And since when did begging work on someone crazy?" From the outside of the van, two sparks could be seen, followed by a pop, and the heavy splatter of blood on the windshields. Licking his lips, he turned to Harley.

"...Exit, Stage right, doll." And, he bailed out of the car

Harley's eyes rested on Johnston as the final sliver of recognition passed over them. She smirked at him, before following her Joker.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"... There are police helicopters located in that direction..." Harley's eyes pointed south.

"And in the opposite. West and East are free... Your boys, though, were smart for once, and brought an unnoticeable car in these parts. The police escorts were ours, as well..." She nodded as they started to get into the car.

"... But the choppers are real ones." Her eyes drifted once more toward the sky as she acknowledged one coming in audible range, but still not able to see it.

"There is a gas station about a minute up the road." She glanced over to the driver and nodded.

"... Once we're there, we have a B-ops, if you're so inclined to have a bit of fun... Seeing as of course now that you're out of the Asylum's grasp- your men are under your control again; I relinquish the power. I really don't like it all that much..." She glanced over at him, and gave a soft, strange smile, before glancing out of the window, and bit her lip.. The action was almost seductive, though not aimed in his direction.

"I'd rather watch, I don't like calling the shots so much."

"Hmmm...Well, you're a damn good second in command.... You're stayin' there..." He told her, before walking out to the second transport. He turned around by the backseat door, and he opened it, gesturing inside.

"... Harlequins first, madam." He said, in perhaps the most pompous of manners. Once both men were inside, he leaned forth.

"...Take me to base. We're blowin' shit up!" He said, excitedly, and cackled.

"...Time to send out little flare up into the sky, see if the batman doesn't go blind..." The door shut, and they were on their way. It did not take too long to make it to their next destination, and the car had not yet stopped when he pulled Harley out with him. Amid all the fast-pace, and the urgency, he was able to strike up a more interesting conversation.

"...Harleen...Quinzell. Lovely name. Lovely. But it just doesn't....reflect..." He said, as he pushed the door open to go into the building's lobby...

"...Just quite what you and me are, here.... No, no... I am... a Joker...and You, are Harley Quinn.... Get it? AaaaaHAHAHAH! Well, BOYS!" He said, jovially, as he lights flicked up, and he was greeted by the sick faces of his men...

"...Time now... to, uh, exercise our right to, uh, how do they say it? Bear arms." At that, he hoisted up a bazooka onto his shoulder, and smirked.

"...Even if they are really, really big arms."

She looked at the bazooka, and tilted her head to the side.

"... I must say, dear, that it is quite large... I guess it gets really hot when you use it a bit?" She glanced out the window, and looked at the people.

"... Oh, I doubt I'd be any use with THAT sort of thing..." She sighed.

"... I just can't aim too well, I'd end up hitting myself..." She leaned against the wall with a fake sigh... She glanced over at the others, each of which were giving her very disapproving looks.

She raised an eyebrow at them, and they looked away. They had each heard the second in command comment, and found it highly offensive. Each of them had been in his employ longer than she- some from the beginning, and yet she comes out of the blue and gets it right from the start.... No, these were not happy boys...

She glanced at them again, feeling the glares coming from them, and rolled her eyes.

"Now, now, I know all of you are..." He inhaled...

"... Excited to meet your new, uh, work partner here, so, uh, give her a nice round of applause..." His stare was alone good enough to make everyone else clap, though it was very lukewarm.

"...Ladies and Gents, Harley Quinn! Now, shut the fuck up and get in touch with your feminine side." He turned around, the bazooka swinging with him. He turned to the only woman in the room.

"...These men, so... Meh, so masculine, eh?" He mocked, before walking over to her.

"...Quinn, Quinn...Quinnnnneh....Quinny....Quinnnn... I'm sure you know how to rig explosives? No? Grenades? No? C4? No?...Claymores? Well, guess what... you'd better learrrn... 'Spart of the job description. Now, go ahead, go nuts." He patted her on the back.

"...So, anyone know...where the hell the batman is? 'Cause, we need to make sure he sees, uh, the billowing cloud of smoke coming from City Hall. Move."

She paused for a moment.

"... It's a Thursday."

She seemed to stop for a bit before glancing over at him.

"... He'll see." She sighed softly, and glanced at the explosives...

"... I know HOW to do them... I just prefer... Bigger ones..." She shook her head. "... And," Her eyes caught on someone.

"Aim an inch higher or you're going to waste that." The guy glared at her, but did so, and hit his target dead on.

Harley folded her arms over her chest and sighed softly.

"... Blowing people up is so... Impersonal.... It's like 'omg, I'm dying from fire oh noze who dunnit'... That's about it. In person, you can smile at them when they go..." She pouted a little.

"... This is more proving that your gun is bigger than their gun- a testosterone trip that I'm relatively tired of taking part in... After all, I've been on the other side of your fire more than once taking your boys and making sure they get relatively good cells..." All of a sudden one of the men finally recognized her, and glared.

"... She's one of the Arkham bitches! No wonder this was so easy! It's probably a trap for the rest of us too... I doubt that's even the J!"

At the comment, the Joker, whom was happily aiming at the building, stopped, dropped the bazooka, and turned around, walking over to the man who doubted his actual identity.

"...Not the J, hm? Hm?" His hand gripped the man's neck, firmly, a blade pressed against his cheek, now, as he glared, in the darkest of manners.

"...Oh, oh, they say I'm crazy. 'Youuuu're crazy, Joker...' And, no...I'm not, how many times do I have to say? I, however.... have, uh, never had anyone doubt who I am..." He pressed the blade a bit harder at the terrified man...

"...Or try to say that my identity was made part of, uh.. a ruse..." He grabbed the man's head, by the hair, hard, and pulled him to his cheeks.

"...Look at me. LOOK AT ME. What do you see?" The man was panting and shuddering, wincing in pain...

"...S-scars...?"

"...Yes, yes... And, do you...know....how I got these scars?" He asked him....

"...See, I...once had a twin brother. Juuust like me. Well, except one thing: He... He was bad...And, no, I don't mean like something simple...I mean... that he...was rotten. See, he..." He licked his lips, and his eyes shifted to look around at the stares of other men, frozen in place...

"...He had a niiiice little drug addiction, and whenever he did something and got caught, he'd always blame.... Ta-da! Me. And he... Did many...many things. Many. Things. That were bad. Like, my sister. He, uh, sold her. To the slave trade. And, of course, he, uh, blamed me.

"So, one afternoon, I find him. Bragging. About my poor sissy. So, after I make sure he never gets to blame me again, I... I take my blade, and press it to my cheeks. Like this! And, I start making myself feel...different." He slid the blade, hard, across the man's face, and a scream was heard as he drew blood and flesh...

"...And realizing, this was not enough, I went to the other cheek!" He related, going to the other part of his face.

"...And repeated the process. And I...was.... different." And he cut the man's remaining side of his face, dropping him to the floor.

"...And now, /you're/ different." He turned around, to the stare of his men.

"...Now, before any of you fine gentlemen confuses me with my dear brother, let me assure you: He...is dead. So, never..." His voice got lower...

"...ever.... Doubt my orders. EVER. Now, let's keep goiiing!"


End file.
